by Adam Watson
“RISE!” The voice was so deep it boomed when spoken. “RISE!” Greegan stretched, trying to pump the blood back into his muscles and slowly got to his feet. “EXCELLENT! …… NOW WALK!” There was only one way to go, and so he started walking forward down the corridor.
The stone walls around him looked ancient. They were silver-blue and looked quite unlike anything he had ever seen before. All along the walls and ceiling, glyphs and symbols with unknown meanings were carved; not only were they carved, but they shone brightly with a magical glow - Greegan walked along in awe.
He walked onwards, there were no turn offs, no intersections, no crossroads, only a long, winding corridor that seemed to go ever down. So down and down he went until he came to a dead end, but what at first appeared to be a dead end was, in fact, one huge door. ‘ENTER!’ came that voice from the void. The door, that being the entire wall in front of him opened and he walked through. This happened again, several times, always the voice would command ‘ENTER!’ and always the door would open before him.
The voice wanted him to reach the end, the voice was opening the doors for him. Without the voice, he would be sealed and locked out, and all entry would be impossible. Deeper he went … into the bowels.
The final door led him into a large chamber. There seemed to be no other entry or exit apart from the one he just entered through. Greegan had a feeling he had reached his destination. He looked around baffled by what he saw.
‘CLOSER!’ said a voice from behind. Greegan quickly turned around - there was no-one there. ‘CLOSER!’ repeated the voice. ‘COME CLOSER!’ Greegan took some hesitant steps forward. ‘YES, THAT’S IT! NOW CLOSER!’ Greegan took some more steps forward, and now he could see something ahead of him - something very strange. He moved closer and closer as the thing came into focus. Embedded into the wall, there seemed to be some kind of container like structure, he could see into it. He could see a man, a man still and unmoving, a man frozen in time. 'CLOSER!'
Greegan moved even closer to the container. The man was strange, the man was ancient; he was human and dressed in the robes of some kind of magic user - maybe he was a warlock. Whatever he was, Greegan had never seen anything like it, but he was sure that this is where the voice was coming from.
Greegan looked closer at the man’s stoic expression; he stared ahead, unmoving, encased in a solid glass-like substance. Greegan moved to stand directly in front of the man and stared into his eyes.
‘AND SO, YOU WILL BE THE ONE!' The man's mouth did not move, the man's expression did not change; he was perfectly preserved. The voice seemed to speak directly into Greegan’s mind.
"Who are you? And why have you brought me here?" demanded Greegan.
'I AM AEGON, FIRST MASTER OF THE DREAD!'
'AND YOU ARE HERE BECAUSE WE HAVE SUMMONED YOU!' Greegan spun around to face the owner of the second voice. There behind him, enclosed in an identical glass vat, just as still as Aegon and just as unmoving, was a woman. Her clothes were similar, but a lighter shade than the man's. It was clear that they had both come from the same part of the world and the same era in time.
'WE ARE THE DREAD MASTERS!' came a third voice. Greegan looked around, there were more bodies encased in glass vats all around.
"What is this place?" asked Greegan.
'IT IS OUR HOME … AND OUR PRISON!' Another voice spoke, and it was then that Greegan had a realisation.
"You're all the voices in my mind."
'AND SO WE ARE!' Then Greegan had another realisation. Since he had come to this place, there had been no voices in his head, and now that he had spoken to them face to face, they weren't ranting and raving anymore. Instead, they were coherent and spoke with power.
"Why have you brought me here?"
'LASHKA HAS BLESSED YOU GREEGAN!' The voices took it in turns to speak.
'YOU HAVE BEEN DEEMED WORTHY!"
'YOU WILL CARRY ON … WHERE WE CANNOT!'
'LOOK INTO MY EYES GREEGAN THUN'DIRA!' said Aegon. 'IN THEM YOU WILL SEE YOUR DESTINY!' Greegan peered into the still eyes of Aegon and just like a portal into another dimension, Aegon took Greegan’s mind to another place.
Images and memories flashed before Greegan’s eyes, infusing his mind with knowledge. Inside he saw an ancient land - a land that was lush and bright.
The gods of light had purged the lands of darkness, their mortal armies killing the creatures of the night, and by doing so they had soaked the world in blood. They filled every corner with corpses, every crack and crevice with the dead. The magic inside the world became tainted, and nature itself became corrupted. The light not only burned away the night, but it burned away at the soul of the world.
In order to heal itself and maintain equilibrium, the world purged the corruption from its eternal essence, and a new goddess was born - Lashka. Lashka had powers unlike any the world had ever seen. Tainted and unnatural, a corruption darker than night, she gained a power over the dead. She was born from the dead, and now they were a part of her; a twisted mutation of nature, she could control them in a way no other god or goddess could - death was her realm now.
Greegan’s mind was in turmoil. Lashka: the Goddess of Death? The thought terrified him. He should never have come here, he should never have come, but it was too late now. He had come too far, he didn’t think he would be able to turn back now even if he wanted to.
From the realms of men did Lashka choose her first champion - a great warrior known as Krakos. He was the strongest and most powerful of his time; a true warrior in the greatest sense of the word. Feared by all, he had unmatched skill and a legion of followers. In his time, he was known as the Crowned and Conquering Master. He conquered the known world, grinding all of his enemies to dust - for this, he gained Lashka’s favour.
She bestowed upon him the power of dread. It was a power he wielded against the world, and the world did fear him. His mere presence on the battlefield could cause the enemy to flee. Those who fought for him, fought with an unnatural fervour that gave them added ferocity and caused dread in those they fought against.
Over time he gained mastery over his power, a power he could bestow on others; a power he could give or take away, a power he had complete control over. He became the first Dread Master. He gained followers, a small group of men and women, more devout than the others, more loyal, more obedient. He taught his power to them, and they became mighty. They became known as the Dread Masters, and for a time they ruled the world.
Greegan’s mind churned. So much information, so much history, going into his mind so quickly. Aegon’s gaze had him transfixed, he could not move, but only endure.
The world had been plunged into darkness once more, but the gods of light had not disappeared. They came back and burned the world, searing the corruption to ashes, burning the darkness away. Lashka may have had her champions, her Dread Masters, but the gods of light had their champions too.
They banded together, to purge the world of darkness and to purge the world of Lashka herself. Using divine magic granted by the gods, the champions of light fought the Dread Masters back to the Jergoth Mountains. Unable to destroy them, the champions encapsulated them in their divine prisons, deep within the mountain - where they have remained entombed until this very day.
Greegan ripped his body away from Aegon's infernal gaze and fell to the floor. He had to hold his head and let his mind digest the knowledge it had received. His body twitched and convulsed, he felt like he was burning all over. When it was finished he lay still, now he had a much greater understanding of what this place was, who these people were and what his role in all of this was. Still shaky, he staggered back up to his feet and turned back to Aegon. The Dread Master stared back with the same stoic look, the never changing gaze that had graced his face for a millennia.
"You still haven't explained why you have brought me here."
'YOU ARE THE NEXT!' Greegan shrugged his shoulders.
"The next what?" But before that could be explained, he was b
ombarded by a flurry of voices, each one following the other in quick succession.
'FIRST YOU MUST PASS THE TRIAL!'
'BEFORE YOU BECOME LORD!'
'IF YOU SUCCEED!'
'YOU WILL BE GRANTED OUR POWERS!'
'FAIL!'
'AND YOU WILL DIE!' Greegan peered into the depths of Aegon's eyes. Trial? Lord? Powers? Death? Maybe they weren't that coherent after all. Greegan had followed the voices to this place, he had allowed them to guide him. He wasn't so sure that he liked where they were taking him.
"If I succeed and gain your powers what am I to do with them?" This time no voices answered and silence emanated throughout the hallways. Greegan sighed, these people, these Dread Masters had been here for centuries, encased in a substance that had frozen them in time.
"Can you be freed?"
'NOT BY MORTAL MEANS!'
'BUT YOU WILL FREE US!'
'WHEN THE TIME IS RIGHT!'
'UNTIL THEN!’
‘WE ACT THROUGH YOU!'
‘OUR CHAMPION!’ Greegan wondered why that knowledge didn’t bother him. They were going to use him to do their bidding, and he didn’t care. Greegan could feel that as time passed, even in the moments that he stood conversing with the Masters, that his mind was digesting the knowledge that Aegon had imparted upon him. Even without speaking, the situation was becoming clearer by the second. Well, let’s get on with it then.
“What is this trial?” he asked. The stoic face of Aegon, still and unmoving stared out from the container that bound him.
‘SEEK OUT THE QUEEN OF DARKNESS! SHE WILL KNOW WHAT TO DO!’ That was the last command the voices ever gave and no matter how much Greegan ranted and raved the Dread Masters remained silent. He screamed out, he screamed for answers - all he got was silence. He bashed on the wall of the container; the glass was harder than steel. In the end, he could do nothing but leave the same way he had come.
Greegan followed the long winding corridors back up the mountain, the doors opened again to let him through and shut behind him once he passed. After a time, he reached the same room he had started in. The door shut behind him, sealing him in. He looked around nervously, unsure as to what would happen next.
Suddenly the room began to heat up, and his body began to tremble as power entered into him from all directions; it seeped through the walls, coming from the very heart of the mountain itself. The trembling turned to shaking; violent and uncontrollable, smoke began to pour off of his body. He wanted to yell, he wanted to scream, to cry out and stop, but it would never stop, not until it was done - now he could only endure.
The power was immense, the pain unbearable, he could feel his body burning and tearing itself apart.
"AAAARRRRGGGHHHHHH!" He couldn’t move, he couldn't breathe, he couldn't even think, he just watched as the world got whiter and whiter and whiter. The lightning sizzled ever louder, building to an almighty thunderclap. 'SSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHH-BOOM!!!' - and he was gone.
***
Through the darkness they walked, it had come to them in the night; a white light from the sky had descended and in the middle of the field it had landed - the field outside Room Eight.
“Is he alive?” asked Willard, a regular patron at the Red Goat Inn.
“He’s breathing … just,” answered Ervin.
“Pick him up and take him back to the room.” Pascal had read his father’s books, he hadn’t believed a word of it at the time, but his father had made sure that he had read them. He knew what had happened. This man on the field, the stranger, he had gone to see the Masters. How and where he had gone Pascal didn’t know, but he did know that the great wind had taken him and the shining light had brought him back, just as it was written.
Pascal watched as they took the stranger away and as he watched he contemplated recent events. All in all, he had got off lightly. Yes, there was some damage to the inn, but last time the great wind had come it almost tore apart the entire building - that was over two hundred years ago. Let’s just hope he doesn’t have to visit the Masters again … at least not in my lifetime.
***
The morning broke, the rooster crowed, dew was on the grass. The first rays of sunlight beat down upon the lands, warming up the world in its new day. The winds had stopped and what had once been a maelstrom of lightning and rage was now rested calm and peace - the field outside of Room Eight was now a place of serenity.
Greegan walked out into the tavern and sat down at the same booth he always had since he had arrived in Hagen’s Tooth. Breakfast was already waiting for him. It wasn’t the same breakfast that he had eaten before the Ascension, but it was just as special - it was a delicacy not meant for normal men.
The other patrons feared even to look at Greegan, but the fact that there were even patrons in the tavern after what had happened, impressed him. Pascal, the innkeeper, was doing his best to act like nothing out of the ordinary had happened. He walked over to Greegan’s table, a big smile on his face as though seeing Greegan was possibly the most joyous thing he could ever do and kneeled beside the table.
“It’s so good to see that you made it through the Ascension, Master.” Greegan turned his head to the kneeling innkeeper.
“I’m not your Master … not yet.” The innkeeper nodded vigorously in agreement.
“Of course, of course, you still have to complete the trial.” Greegan squinted his eyes.
“What do you know of the trial?” The innkeeper swallowed hard, hoping he had not invoked some kind of wrath.
“I … er, only know what my forefathers had written down in the book.”
“What is this book and what did they write?” Pascal stood up and moved to the opposite side of the booth; he felt that if he kneeled any longer, he was going to get a cramp.
“Every couple hundred years or so, someone like you comes to this place to perform the Ascension.” Greegan looked at the innkeeper incredulously.
“Wait a moment … exactly how long has this inn been here?"
"Well, this particular inn has been here for over two hundred years. Before this inn was built, there was another inn, but that one was almost ripped apart in the last Ascension. At the end, it still stood, but the structural damage was such that it ended up having to be rebuilt. Before that, there were a few more versions of the inn, each bigger than the one proceeding it. A long time ago there was a church and before that a shrine, but this has always been the place of Ascension since the birth of Lashka."
"And all this was written in the book?" Pascal nodded eagerly.
"Well, it’s not just one book, there are volumes to it. Each one of my ancestors has added to it throughout the centuries. Over time the knowledge of the Masters has built up, the knowledge we collect comes directly from people like you - the ascended." Greegan eyed the plate hungrily, he had almost forgotten it was there and he immediately starting spooning the new special breakfast into his mouth.
"Do these books mention the 'Queen of Darkness,' I have been commanded to seek her out."
"Yes, my ancestors wrote about ascended who declared that they were going to seek out the 'Queen of Darkness' as part of some kind of trial."
"And who is she?"
"It is known that the 'Queen of Darkness' sits and rules on the Throne of the Damned, which is located within the Dead Fortress situated in the heart of the Shadowlands." Greegan nodded in response, he liked what he was hearing, it was all very interesting - almost as interesting as the food on his plate.
“And who sits on the Throne of the Damned now?”
“Queen Morticá is the current ruler and guardian of the Shadowlands. She is known as the ‘Queen of Darkness’, ‘Queen of the Damned’ and ‘Queen of the Dead.’” Greegan closed his eyes and let the spoonful of special breakfast melt in his mouth. It tasted so good, he just wanted to sit there and savour it, and he could have done so for hours if the taste had not melted away.
“Well, it seems to me that there is only one course of action for me to take.”
Pascal knew the answer, but he dare not say anything. “I must go to the Shadowlands and seek out the Queen.” Pascal nodded solemnly, this journey would certainly seal his new Master's fate - one way or the other.
23. MAGMUS: THE ACADEMY
Magmus’s eyes sprung open, his heart raced, he felt like he had awakened from a nightmare. His mind was a haze and filled with fog, he rubbed his temples trying to make sense of what had happened … but nothing made sense.
He looked around, he sat under a maple tree and appeared to be meditating. He was in the wilderness, in the middle of nowhere; he had no idea how he got there or for how long he had been sitting.
Something had happened, something significant, but he couldn’t remember what. The last thing that he did remember was entering the coach stop in Amalicia City to book passage to Tiet K’rea.
Next to him sat his backpack, the same backpack he had been wearing in Amalicia City. He rifled through the contents and determined that nothing was missing. In fact, there was more food and water in there than he ever remembered having. The fact that nothing else seemed out of place only added to the mystery.
Tiet K’rea – that’s where he was headed, to pursue his studies at the academy. Instead, he had ended up here … wherever here was. What had happened? He tried to remember back, but nothing would come. One thing was clear though – he couldn’t stay here.
He stood up and put the backpack on. Once he was on his feet, he carefully examined his robe looking for clues or evidence that might reveal what had happened; there didn’t seem to be any damage of any kind, nor could he find any kind of substance that might have poisoned him. So he examined his own body, feeling around his head for injury or trauma that might have caused him to lose his memory, but he found nothing. Looking around the countryside, Magmus chose a direction that he thought might lead to civilisation and started walking.
Hours passed, day turned to night and the land was bathed in an eerie glow. Magmus looked high up in the heavens, to where the darkened orb hung. The Black Moon. Stories about the Black Moon had been around for centuries, terrifying children and adults alike.